


I’m always here (Just say the word)

by pinkamour1588



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Romance, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 22:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11473203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkamour1588/pseuds/pinkamour1588
Summary: Prompt: A fic with self-harmWarnings: Self-harm, obviously. A lot of emotional pain in the form of Major Depressive Disorder. Negative self-talk.





	I’m always here (Just say the word)

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on my tumblr account.

You really didn’t want to face him. Hell, you didn’t want to face anyone. You wanted to stay in bed. It was safe there. But you had to drag yourself out of bed and go to work.

You didn’t leave the lab until someone nearly physically dragged you out and to the mess hall to eat, not that you ate much then anyway. You were thankful that he took his lunch break in his office.

You still avoided him even when your shift was over, heading straight back to your quarters and back to bed. He’d called your quarters a few times, but you ignored every one of them. Then you heard the sound of the key code being entered and the door opened.

“(Y/N), are you here?” Jim asked as he walked in, stopping suddenly when he came to your bedroom doorway. “Are you alright?”

You pulled the covers over your head and curled up even tighter.

“What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer. The bed dipped next to you as he laid down after kicking his shoes off. He tried to pull the covers back from your face but you held them tight. No matter how hot and stuffy it was getting under, you didn’t want him to see your tear-streaked face. He sighed, settling closer to you and pulling you against him. And the floodgates opened again and you started sobbing.

“Shhh,” he soothed, “You’re ok. Just let it out.”

You whimpered between sobs.

“Just let it out, Sweetheart. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

You found his hand and gripped it tightly. When your grip loosened a little, he turned his hand over and gave your hand an encouraging squeeze. After god knows how long, you let go of his hand and turned over, letting the covers fall from over your face. You wrapped your arm around him and pressed your face to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently stroking your back.

“Not really,” you mumbled.

“Ok. Do you need anything?”

“No.”

You were grateful he wasn’t pushing you to talk because to be honest, you didn’t know what was wrong. Everything had been great as of late. You had a great job on the Federation’s flagship. You had an amazing boyfriend and friends and family who all cared for you deeply. But for the past two or so weeks, you felt hopeless. Empty even.

The two of you laid in silence for a long time before you spoke again. “Jim,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, how are you feeling?” he asked after a minute.

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, are you nauseous? Do you have a headache? Anything like that.”

“Headache, but that’s just from crying. It’ll pass.”

“You don’t want anything for it?”

You shook your head.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“How are you supposed to help when I don’t even know what’s wrong with me in the first place?”

“(Y/N), I’m no doctor, but there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re depressed.”

“Thank you captain obvious,” you grumbled.

“It’s Captain Kirk, but…” He trailed off when you pulled away enough to give him a weak glare telling him to shut up. “What can I do to help right now? See if Counselor Ross can see you for a session?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to see if he can see you for a session?”

“Jim, I don’t know. I really don’t. The only thing I know is that I feel like absolute emotional shit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “This. You can do this.”

“Ok,” he nodded rubbing your back as you leaned your head back on his chest, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“I don’t know how you can help me. I don’t know how I can help me.”

“Is what we’re doing now helping?”

You nodded.

“Then this is how I can help.”

***

He did set up a session for you with Counselor Ross, and you seemed to improve. Key word: seemed. Despite the twice weekly appointments and the antidepressant Leonard had prescribed, you were barely any better. You had just gotten better at hiding it. Even from Jim. Especially from Jim. He had a starship to captain. You didn’t need to burden him with more. You didn’t tell him when you cried in the shower. You lied about how often and how much you ate. You lied about the insomnia, though you were sure he had noticed a little. And when he asked you how you felt, you lied and downplayed it. “Yeah, I still feel a little down” instead of the truthful “I still feel empty and numb.” You felt bad about lying, but it was better that way. He was better off not knowing.

Then things escalated. It started as an accident. You were in the lab and reached across a hot plate you thought was off, burning your arm. And for the first time in a little over two months, you felt something. Better? No, not necessarily. But it was something other than the crushing weight of your mood.

So, within two weeks, your upper arms and hips were littered with burn marks from heating a spoon over a candle and pressing it to your arm or hip. It stung and hurt like a bitch, but it was something. You could feel something that wasn’t because of your fucked-up brain chemistry. In the back of your head, you knew Jim would see them one day, but you pushed that thought aside with another burn.

“(Y/N), you’re becoming worse than Jim,” Leonard said as he walked into the lab where you were writing up the report for the experiment you had just finished.

“Hm?” You looked up and over at him.

“You’ve been avoiding your physical for weeks. I gave you some leeway, but you can’t avoid it forever.”

_Fuck_. All that time spent thinking about Jim seeing the burns you had forgotten there was one other person who might. “I’m fine. Besides my screwed-up brain, of course.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, come on.”

“I’m in the middle of something. I’ll come down later.” You forced a smile.

“You really are worse than Jim. You don’t get to avoid this.”

“I promise I’ll come to med bay later.”

“Bullshit. You told me that yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that. No more avoiding. I already got you permission to leave for your exam.”

You paled a little and cleaned up your workspace before following him. With every step toward Med Bay, your heart began to beat faster.

“You know the drill,” Leonard said as you walked into the exam room, holding a gown out to you.

You nodded and shooed him out of the room. You changed into the hospital gown and sat on the bed, too preoccupied with anxiety over him seeing the burns and  _oh, god what if he tells Jim_ , to remember to let Leonard know he could come back in.

“Can I come in now?” he asked after ten minutes.

“Oh, yeah,” you called back, trying to keep your voice steady and tugging at the sleeves of the gown, trying to cover the burns.

When he walked in, you just put your arms at your sides, hoping everything was covered well enough, and looked down at your lap. You knew they weren’t.

“How’re you feeling lately?” he asked as he scanned you with a tricorder.

“About the same,” you answered.

“Are the meds helping?”

“I think so.”

“There’s still room to raise the dosage if you think it might help.”

“I think it’s fine.”

“Are your appointments with Counselor Ross helping?”

You nodded.

“You’d tell me if something’s wrong, right?” he asked gently.

“Of course, you’re one of my friends.”

“I wasn’t asking as your friend. I was asking as your physician.”

“Of course, that too.”

He looked at you thoughtfully, then finished the exam and let you change back into your uniform. As you walked out of med bay, he pulled you aside.

“I have to get back to work,” you said.

“As much as you should be talking to Counselor Ross first and foremost about any mental health issues, if you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah, in Med Bay or on the Bridge because god knows you’re always in one of them.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m fine, Leonard. See?” You forced a smile.

He bit back a ‘the hell you’re not’, and opted instead to say, “Ok. Now, get back to work.”

You hurried off, wanting to get as far away from the one person who now knew your secret.

***

Three days later, you had just about forgotten about Leonard’s knowledge of your self-harm. Almost. Whenever you passed him in the hallway, he would give you a knowing, sympathetic look.

Then there was a fire in the lab because you were distracted. You stood while your supervisor chewed you out before dismissing you back to your quarters for the rest of the day. And that’s how you ended up sitting on the bathroom floor in your underwear and a t-shirt with a bottle of gin and a lit candle you were heating a spoon over before pressing it to your skin.

_Pathetic. Worthless. Idiot. Burden. Useless. He’s only around out of pity._ The words rang through your head and you started picking at the scabbed over burns. You let out a hiss when you peeled one off and it started bleeding. But then you continued picking at scabs until they bled, occasionally taking long swigs of gin.

“(Y/N), you here? I heard there was an accident in the lab,” Jim called through your quarters, and your heart began to pound.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._  Thanks to the fact you were incredibly drunk and not sitting very close to the door, you didn’t make it there fast enough to close it the rest of the way and lock it. So, when he opened the door, the first thing he saw was you sprawled out on your stomach reaching toward the door.

“(Y/N),” he said slowly, voice barely above a whisper.

You curled in on yourself, closing your eyes, too tired and drunk to sit up. You couldn’t face him. Not now and probably not ever again.

“Is that a new bottle?” he asked gently as he knelt down next to you.

You gave a small nod.

He stood for a moment, getting your tooth brush, toothpaste, and a cup of water out on the counter. He knelt back down and leaned over you and blew out the candle then helped you sit up, settling you in front of the toilet. “You need to throw up. Can you sit up on your own?”

You shrugged. He carefully let go of you only to put his arm back around you when you swayed.

“Throw up,” he said firmly.

You shook your head.

“It wasn’t a request.”

“It’s gross,” you slurred.

“I’m not judging. You put up with all the gross things I do.”

You hesitated staring down at the toilet bowl before reaching up and sticking two fingers down your throat until you gagged, coughed, and retched.

“Thatta girl,” Jim murmured rubbing your back as you vomited.

When you finally finished, you slumped against him exhausted. He handed you your toothbrush and toothpaste. You brushed your teeth, rinsing your mouth with the cup of water he handed you, then leaned against him again.

“How long?” he asked as he fixed the ponytail your hair was pulled back in before getting the first-aid kit out of the cabinet under the sink and beginning to bandage the bleeding scabs.

You winced. “Little less than a month,” you whispered.

“You said you were doing alright.”

“Lied.”

“Why?”

“Don’t wanna be a burden. You have enough to worry about.”

“I’m supposed to worry about you, you know. You’re my girlfriend. Being concerned about your wellbeing is part of my job.”

“Also, your job to be concerned about everyone else.”

“No, not the same way. It’s my job as the captain to oversee the running of this ship, and yes, as a result, I care about everyone on its wellbeing. But you’re my girlfriend. Caring about your wellbeing isn’t a side-effect. It’s a priority.”

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

You sniffled. “For not telling you. For being pathetic.”

He let out a heavy sigh and you winced. “I swear to god, (Y/N)…”

You whimpered.  _I shouldn’t’ve said that. I put the thought in his head. He’s going to break up with me now._

“Can you look at me?”

You shook your head. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you as closely and tightly as he dared.

“You are not pathetic. You are not whatever fucked up thing your brain is telling you that you are.”

“No,” you whispered.

“I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to right now. But I want you to. I want you to believe me desperately.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

He thought for a minute, then asked, “Do you think you can walk to bed?”

You nodded slowly. He helped you up and to the bedroom, getting you settled in bed sitting up. He sat down facing you as you continued to avoid eye contact.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know what I can do to help?”

You were silent for a minute, then glanced up at him for a few seconds and shook your head.

“Anything. You name it.”

“Jim,” you sighed shaking your head slowly, “You can’t love this away.”

“I know, but that’s not going to stop me from doing everything I can to help. So, what do you need? What can I do to help? For me to do more of my work in here? For me to actually take shore leave? For me to ask Bones to give you medical leave? You’ll have to tell him why, but I can help with that if you need me to.”

“Leonard already knows. He’s known for a few days. Found out at my exam,” you whispered keeping your gaze focused on your hands as you picked at your nails.

“Do you need medical leave?”

You thought for a minute, then nodded. He pulled his communicator and called Leonard, who approved your medical leave immediately.

“Anything else?” Jim asked after setting his communicator on the nightstand.

“It’s all stupid.”

“I don’t care. I said anything.”

“It’s really, really dumb.”

“Anything.”

You were silent for a few minutes, working up the courage. “Eating, can’t sleep, laundry. Stuff like that. See, it’s stupid.”

“Are you eating too much or too little?” he asked without missing a beat.

“Don’t eat. Well, I eat a little. Just not very hungry.”

He mulled over your statement, then asked, “What have you eaten today?”

“Coffee. Half a sandwich. Picked at my fruit at breakfast.”

“So, you still need dinner?”

You nodded.

“I’ll be right back.” He patted your knee as he stood and walked out of your quarters. He returned a few minutes later with food and a cloth bag, handing the food to you. He set the bag on the floor and sat back down on the bed with you.

You picked at the pasta, eating slowly.

“Do you want to eat your meals with me? I usually eat in my ready room.”

You prodded a tomato in your pasta, thinking over his offer, then nodded. The room was silent for the next twenty minutes as you ate. When two-thirds of the pasta was gone you pushed it away. Jim took the plate and put it on your desk in the other room.

“Laundry,” he said as he picked up the bag.

You looked at him confused.

“Do you need to shower first?”

You shook your head. “Showered last night.”

He opened the bag pulling out one of his worn Academy t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. And held them out to you.

You took them, looking at them confused.

“Get changed, I’ll take your clothes down to get washed.” He turned around and began gathering up your dirty clothes that hadn’t made it into the laundry basket.

Once you were dressed, he took your dirty laundry to get washed. When he returned twenty minutes later, he was dressed in a pair of pajama pants.

“I’m kind of just assuming you’d like me to sleep here,” he said as he got into bed with you.

You gave a small, pained smile as you laid down with your back to him. He curled his body around yours, kissing the back of your head and burying his nose in your hair.

“I love you,” he murmured.

You let out a soft hum in acknowledgement.

“I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I promise, (Y/N), I’m always here for you. Always. Just say the word and I’ll be here. Tell me what you need, no matter how insignificant it is, and it’s yours. I can’t fix you, but I can help hold you together as you stitch yourself up again. I can help you up if, or when, you hit rock bottom.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, finding one of his hands and threading your fingers between his.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled giving your hand a small squeeze.

The two of you laid awake for a long time, occasionally speaking. You eventually changed position so you were curled up facing him. And that’s how you fell asleep. With a warm, solid weight against you, an arm securely around your waist holding you close, your head tucked under his chin, and your ear pressed to his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to comment/clarify some things about the lines “your fucked-up brain chemistry.” and “my screwed-up brain”. As a mental health advocate, and as someone whose brain chemistry is helped regulated by medication, this really is not a healthy way of viewing your brain chemistry. There’s a reason I have it as a line in this fic. It’s because it’s not healthy and that’s exactly how I wanted it to come across.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://pinkamour1588.tumblr.com)


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